


The Ghosts Can Sing, and They Ache to be Heard

by skatefasteatgrass



Series: Stories from the Summer (and all other seasons) [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, Drew's dealing with Silena's death after a few years and in her own weird way, Gen, Halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-05 20:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16374761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skatefasteatgrass/pseuds/skatefasteatgrass
Summary: "Ghosts can't sing."But Drew is beginning to doubt that sentence. And she's beginning to doubt her memories of Silena Beauregard.Or, Drew Tanaka keeps coming back to the same Halloween costume, despite how much she thinks she hates it, and she keeps hearing somebody sing Silena's old, favourite song, without anybody actually being there to sing such a melody...





	1. Ghosts Can’t Sing

**Author's Note:**

> I just love Drew Tanaka

“Ghosts can’t sing. They don’t have any breath left, so they don’t have a voice.”  
Drew doesn’t look up from her laptop at Lacy Liou’s argument. She’s too busy browsing mindlessly through Halloween costumes. She isn’t going to be buying one (she stitches fabric by hand every October), but she’s searching for inspiration.  
One image shows a bad replica of Veronica Sawyer. Drew frowns thoughtfully, and jots _Veronica, or Heather D?_ on her notepad. It sits beneath _black swan_.

“It’s a story, Lacy.” Piper Mclean’s voice sounds exasperated, tired. The distinct sound of a coin hitting wood rings in Drew’s ears. Piper curses. “Fuck. Now I can’t find it! That was a whole two dollars!”  
“Maybe next time, don’t launch it at the ceiling,” Mitchell Plums suggests.  
Drew’s cursor hovers over a picture of a doll costume. She purses her lips. She went as a doll two years ago, but… _maybe_ she can pull it off again?  
She scribbles the idea down.  
“Anyway, Lacy, it’s a made-up story. Leo told me it. Haven’t you ever heard of ghost stories?” Drew finally looks up, feeling her neck creak with pain, to see Piper crawling around the floor, hands running over the wooden panels to feel for a coin.

“It’s a dumb story,” Lacy mumbles. She’s sitting on her bunk, legs dangling seven feet off the ground, kicking her feet back and forth slowly. Drew thinks her outfit is a little too _Mean Girls_ for the year 2018—a pink-and-white chequered skirt, a pink turtleneck, a pink cap and white, appropriately-lacy socks.  
“All ghost stories are dumb, Lace,” Drew says, closing her laptop. Her notepad is full enough that Drew can now make a comparison. “Especially any _Leo Valdez_ tells.”  
“Hey!” Piper pokes her head out from beneath her bed. “He may be an idiot, but he’s _my_ idiot best friend. And the story wasn’t _that_ dumb. Right, Mitch?”  
Mitchell stays quiet, and Drew can see him pretending he can’t hear the girls bickering.

“So, I wasn’t listening.” Drew tucks her laptop beneath her bed and ignores Piper’s comment of ‘to nobody’s surprise’. “What was the story?”  
“I can’t be bothered to repeat it _now_ ,” Piper sighs. “The main idea is that there’s this boy, and his brother, who always sang some song, dies in a car crash. And the boy lives his life in mourning and one day, while he’s in the shower, he hears a muffled singing. He gets out of the shower to look, nobody’s there. It happens a few more times until this guy just fucking rips open the shower curtains to see who it is, and it’s the ghost of his brother.”  
“Spooky,” Drew drawls, and smirks. Piper rolls her eyes.

“Well, if you want to yell at someone for the story, go talk to Leo,” she says, sitting up on her knees, a dusty coin in her hand. “Ha! I found it after all. Suck on _that_ , Fates.”  
“Yeah, actually, I might go do that,” Drew says. She swings her legs off the bed and stands up, stretching. Her red Chuck Taylors thud on the floor. Piper blanches.  
“Wait, what? Hold on, Drew, wait, I was _kidding_ , I—”  
“Bye, love!” Drew makes sure her red skirt swishes when she turns around—it’s a habit. “If Leo isn’t at dinner, you know why!”  
She exits the cabin as Piper yells, Lacy snorts with laughter and Mitchell gasps.

The day is… fine, Drew supposes. There’s little cloud cover, and the sun is just sitting over the horizon, ready to set, dying the sky a golden shade of orange. There’s a breeze, but it’s only just cold enough to separate the weather from a Spring day. Birds are chirping somewhere in the woods, and if Drew strains to hear over kids squealing and Sherman Yang bellowing for a fight, she can hear the water nymphs gossiping.  
But Drew’s never been a fan of Autumn. She much prefers Summer, when she can jump into the lake with her clothes on and nobody will whisper _that’s not a very preppy thing to do_ behind her back. When she doesn’t have to bother with wearing a sweater, and wondering what time she’ll have to shed it, and when she’ll have to pull it back on.  
Oh, well. She’s not Zeus.

Drew looks around camp. She’s not going to go make fun of Leo—she never was. She just wanted to go outside before it got too cold to do so in a skirt. But now, she’s not too sure where to go. Perhaps she can just go for a walk around camp, listening for some rumours she can either debunk or pull to the surface. Or she can head to the archery range, watch Bella Swarchovski practise her shooting (the girl had some biceps, Drew wasn’t ashamed to admit she thought she was cute). Maybe she could even pick up a spear and train for a bit, run the stick through some dummies.  
Her eyes drift to the big house, where somebody’s blaring _The 1975_ so loudly it hurts to even try and think over it.  
She knows who’s in there, making such a ruckus. She might as well go convince him to turn it down.

Drew feels dry leaves skate on her calves as she wipes her feet on the doormat of the big house. They feel like the breath of a vampire—dry and coarse. She shudders, and walks inside.  
The music is ten times louder now, and she can see the culprit. Honestly, to _not_ see him would require absolutely no vision; nobody can miss a mop of curly blond hair, or a six-foot figure that dances like he can’t even walk, or a bright orange set of scrubs. Drew almost wishes she wasn’t even friends with this boy.  
“ _WILL_!” She screams to be heard over the music. Will Solace doesn’t seem to hear. He continues to jump around while cutting bandages, which, Drew presumes, is totally _not_ proper safety protocol. “ _WILL SOLACE!_ ”

Finally, Will freezes, and turns around. In one hand, he holds a pair of scissors, open and very sharp. In the other, a roll of bandages. A paper sticker with his name in messy handwriting, spelled with three Ls, is stuck to the pocket of his scrubs. He grins, and waves at Drew.  
“Hey Drew!” He shouts. “What’s up?”  
“Your music volume? Turn it down, dude!”  
Will’s eyebrows scrunch together in a way Drew may have once found endearing and attractive. He dials the volume knob on his old radio to the left and bites his lip sheepishly.  
“Better?” He asks. Drew chuckles.  
“ _So_ much better. Now I can hear myself think.”

Will’s blue eyes convey too many emotions for Drew to keep up with. They’re always like that—they swirl and flicker like stars, matching the constellations of freckles all over his skin. He sets down the bandages and scissors and beckons Drew over.  
“So what brings you to the infirmary? Other than the music, I mean.” Will prods a cupboard door shut with his foot. Drew wanders forward, picking up a framed polaroid photo on her way.  
It’s a photo from last year’s Halloween party, hosted by the Aphrodite cabin, as usual. Drew’s wearing an elaborate fae costume she’d designed from scratch, all detailed and shimmery gold. She’s rather proud of that costume.  
On the left of past-Drew, Will has one arm around Nico di Angelo, and one around Lou Ellen Blackstone. He grins with horribly fake vampire teeth, a set to go with his costume. To Drew’s right, Cecil Markowitz is wearing a crown made of glowsticks and sticking out his tongue.

“We need a better photo this year,” Drew says, setting the phot back down and turning back to Will, who nods cheerfully.  
“Oh, yeah. I have a _much_ better costume this year, and I’ve even convinced Nico to dress up. I hope your cabin can make the party as good as ever.”  
“We’ll go above and beyond, Solace,” Drew promises, falling into a spinning chair and using her toes to push herself around. “As long as you guys can get a good playlist. Can I know your costume?”  
“You cannot!” Will snips one last bandage and collapses on a cot, sprawled out like some long-ass octopus. “You’ll have to wait and see.”  
“Shame.” Drew twirls her hair between her fingers, watches as the sun sends glowing, faint rays through the window and Will subconsciously absorbs it into his skin. His eyes seem to glow a little brighter. “I was going to ask for help on what I should go as.”

“I can still help!” Will exclaims. Drew tries not to laugh at the excitement in his voice. “Look, do you have a list? Because I already came up with some ideas, like, what about the girl from The Ring?”  
“Samara?”  
“Yeah, her! Or Edna, from The Incredibles.”  
“I’m not going as her!” Drew bursts, watching Will cackle. “I’m way too tall!”  
“I know, I know, I was kidding.” Will gulps down some water from a glass next to the cot. “In all seriousness, though, _do_ you have any ideas?”  
“Um…” Drew screws up her nose and tries to think back to her notepad. It’s only been a few minutes ago that she’d looked at it, but her ADHD makes her memory about as good as a goldfish’s. “Well, I know Veronica Sawyer was on it. Or Heather Duke. And, um… Wednesday Addams?”

Will nods sensibly, like he’s in the middle of a meeting, and drums his fingers on his knees to the tune of whatever song is playing now. Drew knows for sure that a black swan ballet dancer was on there, but for some reason, she feels hesitant to s it. Perhaps it’s because that had always been something Silena had suggested she’d go as when she grew older.  
The comment has always bothered Drew—the black swan was the villain of Swan Lake’s story, the one who pushed Odette to her death. It wasn’t fair that Silena always saw Drew as the villain, the ‘bad girl’ who’s only motive was lust.  
It especially wasn’t fair that _Silena_ turned out to be the traitor, the sister who got so many killed. The sister who always dressed as the white swan.  
And yet… the pull of the black swan costume is strong. Drew hates how appealing the idea of going in such a costume is.

“I think Veronica’s a good idea,” Will finally says, snapping Drew from her bitter memories. “I mean, her side of the story is much creepier and more disturbing than Duke’s.”  
“Mhm.” Drew is only half listening. _And Duke is the villain._ “And, like, there’s a whole list. We’ll give it a look-over tomorrow?”  
It’s a question. Lately, Will’s been pretty busy looking after his little sister, Tess, who has influenza. And, of course, he’s always on dates with Nico.  
“Yeah, come and meet me at archery range at about noon!” Will glances outside, and Drew follows his gaze. The sun has finally set—time for dinner. Time to go help Piper wrangle their siblings.  
“Will do.” Drew stands up and blows a kiss to Will, who pretends to catch it and grins. “See you tomorrow, love. Tell Tess I hope she gets better soon.”

When Drew arrives back at the Aphrodite cabin, her siblings are lined up, chatting about Halloween and the pumpkins they’ll carve and the costumes they’ll wear. Drew tells Piper she’ll catch up to them at the dining pavilion, if she wants to take them all now. Piper nods and herds everybody outside, leaving Drew alone with her notebook in hand.  
She hesitates, but once she starts to scratch out _black swan_ , she can’t stop. She scribbles furiously, feeling her heart clench and not stopping until she rips the paper with a harsh hiss.


	2. Someone is Singing

Drew prefers cold showers right after breakfast over hot, nightly showers.  
For one thing, everybody _else_ takes showers in the evening, and if you don’t sprint to the shower, you won’t get in there until midnight, at _least_. It’s even worse in the Aphrodite cabin. But the only people who take showers in the morning, as far as Drew knows, are herself, Lacy, Percy Jackson and Nico di Angelo. As long as she beats Lacy to their cabin’s bathroom, all is well.  
The other thing is that a blast of frigid water on her back wakes her up better than Piper’s stupid air horn, and it gives her time to think, to schedule her day in her head, to be alone. Just for a little while.

“Drew, that’s orange juice. Not milk.”  
Drew blinks wearily at the jug in her hand, positioned over her bowl of muesli. She sighs. This is the third time this week she’s tried to use orange juice instead of dairy, and not by choice. She can’t function properly of a morning. Not until she’s had her shower, at least.  
“Thanks, Mitch,” she croaks, voice rumbly from sleep. She sets the jug down and makes sure the next one she grabs is full of milk, before pouring a generous amount over her cereal. “Do you know what we have today?”  
Mitchell frowns thoughtfully, buttering a piece of toast.

“We have basketball first, up against the Hecate cabin, I know that. And I think we have archery in the middle of the day? Then Piper said we’ll probably finish with the lava wall.”  
“Wonderful.” Drew chose not to complain about ending a day being burned and getting callouses on her hands. “I’m meeting Will at the archery range at noon, anyway. That works out perfectly.”  
Mitchell nods, takes a bite of his toast, and joins Drew as she starts towards the Aphrodite table, where Lacy and Adrien Tesseme are comparing their nails. Drew quietly think that Lacy’s are better.  
“What are you meeting him for?” Mitchell asks as they take their seat. Drew shrugs.  
“Halloween costumes. As is the case every year.” She ignores Lacy and Adrien’s argument, and turns to Thomas Surprass, a thirteen-year-old boy who is more like their mother than anyone.

“Had breakfast yet?” She asks. Thomas has been known to forget to eat if he’s busy—which does, of course, mean designing some new t-shirt. Thankfully, the boy nods.  
“Of course. I finished a Halloween design, by the way, have a look at it!” Thomas shoves a sketchbook in Drew’s direction and flips it open to a specific page. Drew picks it up and brings it close to her face, a silly habit she’s picked up over the years. Or maybe it’s because she has poor eyesight.  
The shirt Thomas has designed is cropped at the navel, a fashionable black in colour. On the front is a red jack o’lantern with creepily blank eyes and a jagged mouth in a slightly lighter shade.  
“It’s interesting.” Drew taps her nail on her chin and cocks her head. “I really like it. But I think it’s missing something.”

“Oh, wait!” Thomas snatches the book back from Drew and scribbles a note in his margin. “I’m stupid. I forgot the glitter in the eyes and mouth!”  
Drew hasn’t ever been a fan of wearing Halloween clothing that’s not a costume, so she nods and hums in agreement. She can’t get into it.  
“Hey, Drew!” Lacy has begun to get off her seat. Drew notices, and shovels her cereal into her mouth. “Hope you’re willing to wait!”  
Lacy speeds off, and Drew chokes on her muesli trying to eat it so fast. Eventually, she ditches her attempt, and sprints after her sister, flipping Piper off behind her back when she hears her yell to ‘be ready for basketball at ten!’.

Drew doesn’t take note of the things around her. It’s all background noise—she doesn’t have time to register Rhys Winters and Lou Ellen Blackstone arguing about something irrelevant, or Jason Grace waving hello to her, or Cecil Markowitz setting a slime trap over the door of cabin three. She’s too busy trying to beat Lacy to the shower, else she’ll have to spend a dreaded half hour keeping herself busy while Lacy takes her sweet time steaming up the bathroom with boiling hot water.  
By the time Drew has burst into her cabin, she’s sweating. Which she shouldn’t be—it’s the middle of Autumn. But Zeus is in a particularly bad mood this season, and nobody knows how to fix it, so they’re stuck with warmer weather than usual until Apollo apologises for some prank he’s pulled.

And Lacy is sitting calmly on her bunk, flipping through Teen Vogue with a smug expression on her face. Drew scowls.  
“You tricky bitch,” she spits. Lacy grins.  
“Well, I have to say, I have _never_ seen you run that fast. Maybe next time there’ll be a new record.”  
“I hate you.”  
Lacy shrugs.  
“No you don’t.”  
And Drew can’t even fight back, because she’s right. She doesn’t hate her.  
She heaves a sigh and heads into the bathroom.

Drew zones out while she showers, which is not unusual. She thinks about her Halloween costume (and _absolutely_ not how much she wants to go as a black swan ballerina), about how much effort she has to put in just to hang out with Will now, about Thomas’s t-shirt she’s going to put together because, so help her, she loves her brother and she’ll make the shirt even if she doesn’t get it.  
When she’s finished, her head is clear, and her skin is prickly with goosebumps. It feels so refreshing, so nice and comforting, that Drew doesn’t even notice the singing at first.  
It starts softly, while she’s rinsing the shampoo from her hair. A soft melody, a light tone.  
It gets louder when Drew actually hears it. She freezes, and strains to hear the song. Gradually, it becomes as loud as the Apollo cabin practising their music all at once—which is, to say, extremely loud.

_Well I found love where it wasn’t supposed to be,_   
_Right in front of me,  
Talk some sense to me…_

Drew can feel her heart pumping violently in her chest. The lyrics are achingly familiar, like they’ve been carved into Drew’s brain but she’s only just found the markings. It sounds as if it’s coming from inside the bathroom, which is impossible. Drew locked the door. She always does.  
The voice sings with heartache and grief, like they’re mourning the loss of love… of meaning. Drew knows the feeling all too well.  
When she finally rips open the shower curtain, chest hammering, the singing stops. Nobody is standing in the room or sitting on the tiles. Everything is exactly as Drew left it before she hopped under the water.  
It’s eerie. Disturbing. Uncomfortable. The hair on the back of Drew’s neck stands up like she’s been given a hug by Jason or Thalia Grace.

She dresses quickly, anxious to get back outside. She throws on her camp t-shirt, black shorts, black boots. She ties her hair up in the fastest bun she can manage and loops her hoop earrings through her pierced ears.  
Then she gets the hell out of the bathroom.  
Lacy is still reading her magazine when Drew slams the bathroom door behind her. Her breathing is laboured, so she scans Lacy’s laid-out outfit to calm herself down—pink sneakers, frayed, light pink shorts, and a thin pink sweater.  
Seriously, what is this girl’s deal with the colour pink?  
Drew also notices that she’s wearing a pair of earbuds, and pop-rock music is blaring through them.

“Lacy!” Drew shouts to be heard, knowing full well how loud Lacy listens to music. Lacy looks up and pops out a headphone.  
“Finally!” She rolls her eyes and jumps off her bed, clothes in her arms. “You’d better get a move on and help kick the Hecate kids’ ass before I get there.”  
Drew nods slowly, tugging at a strand of hair that’s fallen out at her temple. She bites her lip.  
“Lacy?” She whispers, just as Lacy’s about to step into the bathroom. Lacy’s blonde ponytail whips her own face as she spins around.  
“What?”

”We’re you singing I Found, per chance?”

  
Lacy raises her eyebrows, confused. She blinks heavily.  
“I don’t even know what that song is.”  
Drew doesn’t have time to worry before Lacy’s locked the bathroom door, and she figures she should get to the basketball court before Piper drags her down there.

* * *

 

“We still kicked your asses.”  
The singing has completely been wiped from Drew’s memory—at least for now. The victory of beating the Hecate cabin in basketball is too strong to let such a small thing bother her. Now, she stands next to Lou Ellen, sharing a bottle of water.  
“By two points!” Lou Ellen argues, taking the bottle and gulping down the rest of it. Drew pouts. “Next time, we’ll get you.”  
“Oh, sure!” Drew can’t help but laugh. “Better start practising, Blackstone.”  
“Yeah, yeah, alright.” Lou Ellen sighs contently and leans back on her hands. Drew catches the sparkle in her eye, and smiles. Just a little.

“I love October,” Lou Ellen says. Drew nods, pulling her hair from its dreadful bun and combing her fingers through the waves. She begins a braid. “Halloween and all. Rhys keeps trying to tell me that we don’t need live bats in the cabin, but _he’s_ not head counsellor, is he?”  
“Course not.”  
“No, I am! So the bats will stay.”  
“Remind me not to come in your cabin until November.”  
Out of seemingly nowhere, Lou Ellen plucks a real, live bat and cradles it in her hand. Drew shrieks and scoots backwards. Lou Ellen bursts into tearful laughter.

“Okay, alright, fuck off!” Drew stands up and brushes off her legs. She narrows her eyes and sticks out her tongue, while Lou Ellen presses a hand to her chest.  
“Childish!”  
“Well, I have to get going,” Drew says, making sure her notepad is still in her back pocket. “Costumes to figure out and a certain son of Apollo to bother, you know? I’ll see you at lunch.”  
“See you at lunch,” Lou Ellen repeats, letting go of the bat. It squeals, before flying into the woods. Drew watches it go as she turns on her heel, marching after her siblings to the archery range, where she can already hear the _thwack_ of strings being released and the dull _thunk_ of arrows hitting their targets.

The range is full of people. Since children of Apollo get along rather well with children of Aphrodite, everyone is in mixed groups. At one target, Bella and Adrien are fletching arrows. At the next, Lacy and Kayla Knowles are bickering good-naturedly about whether or not Lacy could win in their thumb war. Drew thinks not, but says nothing. Next to them, Austin Lake, Mitchell, Valentina Heartfelt and Yasmin Samron are shooting patiently.  
Drew finds Will struggling to even hit his target, right at the end.  
“Afternoon, Solace,” Drew says in greeting, picking up a bow and a quiver. She nocks an arrow and aims it as best as she can to her target. “You can grab my notebook and skim it, if you want. Back pocket.”

Will slides the notepad from Drew’s pocket quickly, and eagerly scans its contents. Drew doesn’t miss his pause of confusion when he sees the scribble over the (now-indistinguishable) ‘black swan’. He hums as Drew lets her arrow loose and watches it hit the very edge of the target. Neither of them has ever been good at archery.  
“I still like Veronica,” Will offers. “But I also really like the Coraline idea.”  
“Yeah, they’re pretty good,” Drew fiddles with her bowstring and fits another arrow in. This time, she tries to aim more for the centre.  
Somehow, it misses the target completely.  
“Your turn,” she sighs, and gestures for Will to go ahead.

“I mean—” Will continues as he struggles with his arrows. “I’m gravitating towards Coraline more. People recognise her a little more, you know? And I think you’d suit blue hair.”  
“You think I should go all out and dye it for the holiday?” Drew asks in all seriousness, twisting the end of her braid. “Dark blue. Hm. I’ll get Lou Ellen on that.”  
“Cecil could snatch us some hair dye, too,” Will suggests. Drew nods, but shoots it down in her mind. The last time she asked Cecil to get her dye, he bought a sickly yellow instead of the red she’d requested. To this day, she still wasn’t sure if it was on purpose or just an accident.  
As Drew and Will take it in turns to fire at the target, Drew’s mind wanders back to her morning shower. The singing was probably all in her head—Lacy clearly hadn’t heard anything.

Then again… Lacy had had headphones in. And the singing seemed to have come from _inside_ the bathroom, like the culprit was right outside the shower curtain.  
Drew’s stomach feels hollow. Perhaps it had just been a trick of her mind, Leo’s story rubbing off on her. But still… something tells her that wasn’t the case. That the singing was real.  
Drew shakes her shoulders, takes a deep breath, and fires an arrow.  
It hits the bullseye.


	3. But Nobody's Singing

It’s the eleventh of October, seven days later, when Drew hears the singing again.

This time, she’s gathering fabrics to make her Coraline costume. A soft yellow plastic, red satin, some sort of thin material she thinks she can use for the stockings. As Piper had told her many times, it probably would have been much easier to just go around camp and collect bits of clothing, but Drew’s determined—sewing her own costume is a tradition. With her, it’s always been all or nothing—go big or go home.  
So on Sunday morning, she opens cabin ten’s fabric closet, and watches with exasperation as half its contents pour out onto her and bury her in material.

“Nice one, Drew.” Piper’s voice is mocking. Drew scowls, and sticks a hand out from beneath the pile to flip her off.  
With a frustrated sigh, Drew digs herself out and wades into the middle of the closet. It’s as busy as ever—once upon a time, it was sorted into colours. Now it’s just a huge mess of scraps, and the place smells like mothballs. Drew covers her nose and digs a bottle of perfume from her pocket, spraying it around the room. Now, it’s at least bearable.  
She’s about to yell out to Piper, ask her where her old satin bedsheets went, when the singing returns—soft and mournful, just like last time.

 _And I'll use you as a makeshift gauge,_  
 _Of_ _how_ _much_ _to_ _give_ _and_ _how_ _much_ _to_ _take_ ,  
 _I'll_ _use_ _you_ _as_ _a_ _warning_ _sign_ ,  
 _That_ _if_ _you_ _talk_ _enough_ _sense_ _then_ _you'll_ _lose_ _your_ _mind_

Drew can’t move. Her hand is clenched tightly around a sheet of raincoat-material, while her legs freeze in a crouching position. She tries to scream, but she can’t. Her voice won’t work.  
The singer sounds so close. Drew can practically feel breath on the back of her neck, warm and vibrating with music. Her arms tremble, elbows locking and her stomach crinkling to a ball.

 _And I found love where it wasn’t supposed to be,_  
 _Right_ _in_ _front_ _of_ _me_ ,  
 _Talk_ _some_ _sense_ _to_ _me_ …

Finally, Drew finds her vocal chords. She yells, and whips around to see nothing but a dump of old clothes. The singing has stopped abruptly.  
“Drew, what the fuck?” Piper’s head appears in the doorway. Her eyebrows are scrunched together with concern. “What was that for?”  
Drew’s breathing is shallow and fast. She scans the closet, but still—she can’t see anybody else.  
“Was someone singing?” She asks demandingly. Piper’s eyes flicker to the side.  
“You and I are the only ones here. Lacy’s with Kayla, Adrien went with Rhys, Bella and Miranda down to the lake, Mitchell and Thomas are doing stable duty… it’s just us. And you know I don’t sing unless necessary.”

Drew clenches her teeth to stop them from chattering. Despite the warm Autumn air, she feels freezing, like somebody’s thrown her into a windy clearing in the middle of Winter.  
“Promise you weren’t just singing,” Drew breathes. Piper shakes her head.  
“Drew, I swear I wasn’t singing.”  
For a few moments, everything is silent, spare for the sound of the Iris cabin playing volleyball. Drew clenches her fists to stop them from quivering, and sets her jaw.  
“Okay,” she whispers eventually. She gathers her fabrics into her arms and takes a deep breath. “Alright.”  
“Drew, is everything—”  
“Can you get me the sewing kit?” Drew kicks the closet door closed behind her, and turns to Piper. Her face is full of worry, but she ignores it. “Thanks, love.”

She dumps the fabrics on her bed, dusts her hands, and begins to dig around in her storage trunk. She’s _sure_ she has a Bluetooth speaker in here somewhere—she put it in there last Christmas. She wants to drown out the sound of a memory, the sound of a traitor singing her favourite song every morning when she’s braiding Drew’s hair.  
She wants to pretend Silena Beauregard never existed.  
It’s difficult when someone unknown keeps singing the girl’s old favourite song in Drew’s ear, but she’s going to do whatever she can to make it happen.

“Sewing kit.” Piper tosses a carry-container on Drew’s bed and shrugs on a thin windbreaker. “A simple ‘please’ would suffice next time.”  
“Thanks.” Drew finally feels her fingers wrap around a patterned cylinder, and she draws it out. It feels heavy in her hand. She connects it to her laptop and opens her music.  
“Welcome. I’ll be with Leo, trying to hit Mr D with snowballs without getting caught.”  
Before Drew has the chance to tell her sister how _stupid_ of an idea this was, she’s gone. Drew rolls her eyes and hits play on her playlist. Some song by _Marina and the Diamonds_ begins to echo through the room.

Drew’s mind wanders while she gets to work, stitching bits and pieces together and laying out squares of material. Her music is a bit of a distraction, but she still wishes somebody was here with her. Perhaps she can invite her friends over, get some gossip from Lou Ellen and convince Will to tell her what his costume is.  
The more she ponders the thought, the more she likes it. She sets down her work and exits the cabin, on a mission to find her friends.

The day is a little cooler than the past week, which Drew takes to mean Zeus is finally cooling down—quite literally. Her jeans are comfortable to wear now, matched with a cherry-red tank-top she stole from Lou Ellen a year or two ago. The sun is weak in its early hours, sending down watery rays of light. It’s no wonder all the Apollo kids are stumbling like zombies.  
She finds Will and Nico sitting on the porch of the Hades cabin, bickering lightly about some video game Drew’s heard Will talk about before. They stop when they see her.  
“Hey Drew!” Will waves with a grin. Nico waves. “How are you?”  
“Feeling indifferent to the weather, currently,” Drew answers. She punts a rock to the step of the cabin and follows it. “You guys seen Lou Ellen and Cecil?”

“Lou Ellen is trying to tame bats somebody let escape from her cabin,” Nico says. Drew snickers. She knows exactly who let those bats loose—Rhys Winters. For somebody who’s area of expertise is dark magic, he’s awfully afraid of spooky things of any kind. “I think Cecil’s still asleep.”  
“Probably.” Drew folds her arms. “Well, I’m about to go ask them if they want to come over to the Aphrodite cabin and help me with my costume. Care to join?”  
“Of course.” Will stands up and stretches. Nico jumps to his feet, adjusts his jacket, and shrugs.  
“Got nothing better to do. Why not?”  
“Hey! We were discussing _Fallout_!”  
“And I was only listening because you were happy to talk about it.”

After a year of Will and Nico’s relationship, Drew’s third-wheeling and multiple walk-ins (Drew’s least favourite part of her best friend having a boyfriend), Drew has gotten quite used to the friendly bickering. The pair are sugar-sweet—so much so that it’s sickly. It leads to harmless arguments quite often. Drew has learned to focus on whatever goal she currently has and let them sort things out themselves. She’s not about to get in the way of a healthy relationship, anyway—not again. Not after the incident with Jason and Piper.

They find Lou Ellen chasing bats back into her cabin and scolding Rhys, which looks hilarious from Drew’s point of view; Rhys is six-foot-three, and Lou Ellen stands at only five-foot-seven. Not to mention Adrien is standing a metre or so away, grinning. Drew can only assume he’s had some part in his friend’s (read—weird ex-slash-current-love-interest) shenanigans. She catches his eye and smirks.  
It takes a little while to calm Lou Ellen down, and then find Cecil, but they do eventually. A half-hour later, Drew’s sitting on her bed, Lou Ellen’s head in her lap and red satin in her hands.

“I think Kayla’s just doing it to bother me.” Will’s busying himself by re-organising the fabric closet, stealing bits he thinks he can use as rags in the infirmary. Drew lets him, and almost warns him about whatever was in there, singing. But she doesn’t. She can’t find it in herself to do so.  
“Or maybe she just wants a helix piercing?” Cecil’s playing Mythomagic with Nico, and getting his ass kicked. Drew snickers. “They’re pretty cool. Alice has one. I want one.”  
“Then get one!” Will picks out Adrien’s old flannel, with the black hood and extra chest pocket. “Oh. Drew, do you think this would fit me?”  
“I don’t know, try it on!”  
Will rolls his eyes, and slips the jacket over his shoulders. Drew thinks it’s a little snug around his chest, but she doesn’t say anything. Will’s not wearing his binder right now anyway, so maybe it will fit better when he does. Besides, she can always make some adjustments on it.

“Nice.” Will shrugs the jacket off and loops it around his waist. “Hey, Nico, there’s a shirt in here you might like. Check it out.”  
“I will not.” Nico throws a card down, and Cecil groans. “Aphrodite. Get rid of your immunity cards, and if you have Eros, hand him over.”  
Cecil tosses a handful of cards to the side and passes another to Nico, who beams. Will, who has either forgotten about the t-shirt or knows Nico’s not going to bother, closes the closet door and jumps onto Piper’s bunk. Drew knows she won’t mind.

“So, you’re going as Coraline?” Lou Ellen asks. Drew lifts her material to see her face—silver eyes that seem to swim like mercury, pale skin, short, bright green hair that curls over one side of her head and avoids the shaved side. Suddenly, Drew is very aware of the crush she used to have on her friend. “I can do your hair for you.”  
“I was going to ask you to do that, actually.” Drew finishes one last stitch and folds up her new skirt. “Midnight blue. I’m going to do it up so it looks like a bob.”  
“Sounds like a plan, Dan.”  
“Drew.”  
“Sounds like a plew, Drew.”

Drew giggles, but her stomach feels cold and hollow. It feels wrong to go as Coraline. Especially when her heart aches to go as a black swan…  
“Oh, I like this photo!”  
Drew’s head snaps up. Will’s examining an old photo Drew thought Adrien had smashed a long, _long_ time ago.  
_He lied_.  
It’s the worst photo in the cabin. A snapshot of Silena with her arms around Drew and Adrien—she’s all dressed up as the white swan, her hijab white and feathery, made especially for Halloween. Drew is nine years old at most, dressed as a little vampire. She scowls, and swallows the lump in her throat.

“I hate it.” Drew stands up, snatches the photo off Will, and chucks it into the storage closet. She feels her teeth grit. “I don’t ever want to see her again.”  
She looks at Will, expecting him to look angry. He’d always liked Silena.  
But he just looks sad. Pitiful.  
“Fair enough.”  
Drew _hates_ that look.  
And she _despises_ how much the photo makes her wish she was going to Halloween as a black swan this year, just to piss herself off.


	4. Who is Singing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these chapters are getting so short I'm sorry

On the eighteenth of October, the singing returns.

Drew’s helping Will in the infirmary and gossiping with him when it starts again. Just as she’s about to cut the last bandage, the hairs on her arm stick up as if she’s been shocked, and she shivers.  
She knows all too well what’s about to happen.  
“Not again,” she pleads under her breath. She doesn’t want to lose it in front of Will. She does that enough—what with her PTSD from both the Titan War and the second Giant War, her dysphoria and the crushing reality that she’ll always be remembered as ‘the villainous sister’, she breaks down too often. It’s not that Will isn’t a huge help—he is. It’s just that Drew would prefer not to have him know she’s hearing voices.

Nevertheless, though she mentally begs the singer to just keep _quiet_ for once, the painful melody starts.  
_I'll use you as a warning sign,_  
That if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind,  
And I'll use you as a focal point,  
So I don't lose sight of what I want,  
And I've moved further than I thought I could,  
But I missed you more than I thought I would,  
And I'll use you as a warning sign,  
That if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind.

Drew’s heart flies to her throat. She’d thought the voice had sounded familiar when she’d first heard it. And the second time she heard it, she recognised where she’d heard the song before.  
But now, she realises it isn’t just the song. This whispery, heartache-filled voice sounds so similar to… to _hers._  
“Drew, what’s up? I need those bandages.”  
Drew looks up from the scissors in her hands. Will’s standing over Harley Barrera, who’s face is stained with old tears. Drew sucks in a breath, turns around, and prepares herself.  
For nothing.  
_No one_ is there.  
Drew wants to scream.

“Sorry, Will.” Drew shoves her bandages at Will, who stumbles to catch them. She grist her teeth. “Bandages.”  
“Okay, what’s going on with you?” Drew makes an effort to stand up, but Will pushes down on her shoulders and forces her back down. He crouches so that he’s just a little shorter than her. “Seriously. You keep freaking out. Piper told me you were acting weird the other day before we came over, and you were still acting weird when we got there. Then the photo with Silena? Come on, I haven’t seen you act like that since she died.”  
Drew scowls, and curls her knees to her chest. She knew Will would do this. He’s so _selfless_ and _cool_ , and what’s she ever done? Break a couple of hearts? How are they even on speaking terms, let alone _best friends_?

“It’s nothing,” Drew grumbles. She avoids Will’s gaze. “Look, it’s just—when Silena was alive, she always used to tell me that I should go as the black swan from the Swan Lake story for Halloween. And, like, cool. I get it. I’m bitchy. Sure, I’ll go as the villain. But she always went as the _white swan_ , the _good guy_ , and guess who turned out to be the traitor? Spoiler alert—it wasn’t fucking _me_.”  
Will’s eyes soften. They turn from a crystal, hard blue to the colour of the sky in midday. There’s even specks of gold in them. Drew’s never noticed that.  
“So you’re upset that people are treating her like a saint?” He asks. Drew shrugs.

“It’s not just that. For some reason, I just—I _want_ to go as the black swan this year. I don’t know why! It doesn’t make sense! There’s something about it, I don’t… I don’t know.”  
Drew knows that she should probably tell Will about the singing, but she holds back. It feels a little too _personal_ to share with _anyone_. Will bites his lip.  
“I looked up to her and Beckendorf,” he says quietly. Drew doesn’t know why he’s telling her this—he has before. It made her so angry to hear that he’d _liked_ Silena that she refused to talk to him for _months_. “And when I found out she was the reason he died… the reason _Lee_ and _Michael_ died…”  
Drew hears the choke in Will’s voice. She glances at him to see him rub his eyes quickly and clear his throat.

“Sorry. Um, yeah. It just… it hurt a lot to hear that. But I knew Luke was, to put it nicely, a little _manipulative_ , and I knew he’d done plenty of things to force Silena to… do that. So, I moved past it and forgave her. And I know that’s gotta be a hundred times harder for you to do, always being overshadowed by her and _still_ getting called the ‘worse sister’. But… maybe it’s time to let go. I think—don’t you dare hit me, Tanaka!—I think maybe you’re subconsciously focusing on your worst memories of her. Just… maybe if you think about who she _really_ was, outside of the double-crossing… maybe you can move on. And the black swan costume… maybe you can use it without having to think about her.”

Perhaps a year ago, Drew would have stormed off when she’d heard Will say such a thing. But over time, she’d matured. And… she trusted Will.  
Maybe he was right.  
“Fine.” Drew crosses her legs and arms tightly—she’s sure she looks like a wound-up slinky. “Later. Let me help you brew some antidotes?”  
“Sure. Go grab some nectar.”  
_This_ is why Drew loves Will. He won’t pester her, and he doesn’t hold a grudge to her (admittedly) ridiculous reasoning. He just tells her what she needs to hear and lets her do what she wants, as long as it won’t hurt anyone.   
Yeah. There _is_ a reason why they’re best friends.

While Drew helps Will bottle his healing mixtures, labelling the glass vials with tape and permanent marker, she thinks about what he told her. About Silena, and that perhaps the memories she’s got stuck in her head are all the bad ones.  
The harder Drew thinks, the more frustrated she gets. This whole time, she’s been hating Silena for the shadow she’d cast over her, the insistence of ‘you’re the meaner sister’, every time she told people ‘this is Drew, she’s a little bit feisty. Just be patient with her’ because, was that all Silena saw in Drew? A fiery temper?

And when Drew really thinks back, she starts to remember the times Silena pushed Drew into the spotlight with a thumbs up and a wide smile. The times she said, ‘I can’t believe mom put so much _love_ into your heart!’ and hugged her, because Drew had saved a worm from being squished. The time she’d introduced Charlie to her siblings, gestured to Drew, and said ‘this is the next leader of the cabin. When we’re in college, Drew’s taking over. And I _know_ she’ll be even better than me’.

But something stops Drew from forgiving her sister every time. The thought, the _idea_ , that she’d just dropped everything because she had a small crush on Luke and was willing to destroy the world for him… that was hard to forget.  
Her mind is torn between wonderful memories and cruel realities.   
Whenever Drew had been upset, Silena had sung her a lullaby. When Drew had stomach cramps and she couldn’t get to sleep, Silena had smoothed down her hair and sang her song. But when Drew needed her the most, she was busy dying and being a _coward_.

Drew’s chest feels hollow. The costume she wants to wear _so badly_ but refuses to, because that’s just doing what _Silena_ wanted, and Silena’s song… perhaps it’s not a coincidence.  
Lacy had said “ghosts can’t sing”. But Drew’s beginning to doubt that sentence. And she’s beginning to doubt her memories of Silena Beauregard.

* * *

 

After dinner, when Drew’s siblings are all fighting and clawing for the shower, she sits quietly on her bed. She can hear Rhys and Adrien outside, saying goodnight to Miranda Gardiner, Bella and Malcolm Pace. She can hear the Autumn wind, feel it through her window. And she can see her Coraline costume, complete and ready, hanging on Mitchell’s bed, just above her.  
But the costume feels so wrong. It feels like a costume she shouldn’t have even considered—a costume she never even liked. When she’d tried it on earlier, it felt too itchy on her legs, too tight on her shoulders.  
Drew’s clothing-making was never wrong, unless what she was _making_ was wrong. Thomas’s shirt turned out perfect—he’s wearing it right now. Lacy wants her own, same design.

Drew almost asks herself what’s wrong, why the Coraline costume went so pear-shaped. But then she realises that she _knows_.  
When she looks at the clock, she knows she still has an hour until mandatory lights-out. Piper isn’t too strict on rules—read: she doesn’t even _like_ rules—but she always follows curfew. Drew’s never been sure why.  
Still… an hour. And she still has a little bit of time left before Halloween. Enough time to make a new costume.  
Drew pulls her notepad out from beneath her pillow, and stares at the scribble of ink. She shakes her head.  
_I cannot believe I’m doing this_.

At the very end of the list, Drew writes lightly. Curly and loopy.  
_Black swan.  
_ Next to the inky black letters that seem to swim in Drew’s head, she scrawls a massive tick.


	5. I Know Who's Singing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> possible tw: subtle and small hints of past domestic violence/child abuse

On the thirtieth of October, Drew finishes making her costume, and hides it. Warm, good-feeling guilt pools in her stomach when she looks at it, but she’s not going to go back to the Coraline costume. She knows that if she doesn’t do what makes her happy, she’s going to sit on it and regret it for the rest of her life. She always does that.

“Can we _please_ know what you’re going as?”  
The weather is finally cool enough for leggings and a sweater. Drew’s wearing her favourite black tights and apple-red jumper, sitting on her bed and flipping through an old copy of Cosmopolitan. Above her, Mitchell’s face appears, pouting.  
“Come on, Drew. Just tell us!”  
Drew pretends not to hear him, or Adrien, who’s repeatedly saying ‘can we know? Can we know? Can we know?’. If Drew didn’t know any better, she would have thought Adrien was five years old.

“Can’t you guys just wait? Halloween is _tomorrow_ ,” Valentina whines, her toothbrush hanging out her mouth. Piper scrunches up her nose and shows her back into the bathroom.  
“Val has a point. Just be patient.” Piper stretches and jumps into her bed. “Besides, the day Drew willing does what she’s asked to is the day mom floats down from Olympus and willingly gives up her position as an Olympian.”  
Drew grabs a cushion and pegs it at Piper, who ducks just in time. She pops back up as if nothing happened.

“Can’t you all pester Lacy?” Drew grumbles, rolling up her magazine and tucking it between the slats of wood supporting Mitchell’s bed. “She won’t tell anybody what _she’s_ going as, either.”  
“Lacy’s ‘busy’,” Adrien says. To nobody’s surprise, he’s not wearing a shirt, though Drew thinks it’s a little too chilly to have a bare torso. “She’s avoiding us, so we won’t ask her anything.”  
“She’s smart, then, isn’t she?” Drew pops in headphones and slips beneath her covers. “But seriously, where is she? Curfew is in five minutes.”  
“Staying in the Apollo cabin,” Thomas pokes his head out from his bundle of sheets. His hair sticks up at odd angles. “With Kayla. And Kayla’s going to be here tomorrow night.”

“Wonderful. Guess I’ll take her place over there, so I don’t have to put up with two thirteen-year-old girls all night.” Drew flicks the switch of her bunk’s reading light and clicks play on her music. “Goodnight. See you all tomorrow.”  
A muffled chorus of ‘g’night’ breaks though Drew’s playlist. She closes her eyes, and tries not to think about the shimmering, black, pancake tutu hidden beneath her bed.

* * *

Halloween morning starts off wonderfully, and _then_ turns nuts, which goes right against Drew’s expectations.

She wakes up to Piper’s ridiculous air horn, as per usual, but when she opens her eyes, the cabin is full of orange and black streamers, tiny plastic pumpkins, glittery foam skulls and crystal eyeballs. Everybody around her looks just as confused as she feels—everybody except Piper fucking Mclean, who looks as smug as she possibly can with bags under her eyes and slumped shoulders.  
“Mclean,” Drew drawls slowly, eyes fixed on the pipe-cleaner spider hanging half an inch away from her nose. “How long did this take you, and why didn’t any of us notice you were doing it?”

“Well, it took all night, and that was with Leo and Jason’s help.” Piper ties her hair back into a scrabbly low ponytail with the _snap_ of a band. “And you slept through it because I may or may not have gotten Lou Ellen and Rhys to put a sleeping charm on all of you. And I kept myself awake with seven cups of coffee.”  
“You need to go to sleep.” Mitchell advises, pulling on a light-blue, white-collared shirt that only he could pull off. Drew gives his outfit a thumbs-up. “Seriously.”  
“Yeah, I know. The three of us are napping in Jason’s cabin right after breakfast. But do you like it?”

“I love it!” Valentina is spinning around in her emerald-green dress, her black heels, her black fishnets and black tiara. Drew doesn’t bother telling her that their Halloween party doesn’t start until four in the afternoon, and that her costume looks more like a cross-dressing Wizard of Oz than a dragon tamer. Valentina does what she wants, when she wants, and she doesn’t care who thinks differently of it. Drew respects this.  
“So our activities are being replaced today, right?” Lacy’s still cocooned in her blankets, her gold eyes squinted. “By setting up the party?”

“Adrien, Mitchell, Val, Drew and I are,” Piper replied. “But you, Thomas, Taylor, Aleisha, Isobel, Tia, Wendy and Callum are going to join with the rest of the Apollo cabin.”  
“’Rest of’?”  
“Only Will and Bella are helping us. The rest of them are going to be with you guys.”  
Lacy groans while Thomas gasps.  
“Hey! Not fair!”  
Drew ignores the complaining, and picks out today’s outfit—red blouse, ripped black jeans, red Chuck Taylors. Somewhere near her, Adrien seems to be muttering about what kind of shirt he’s going to wear. Drew watches him decide on an orange mesh cropped one.

After an hour, most of her siblings have spilled from the cabin, and only she and Lacy remain. Lacy’s fiddling with her diamond earrings—the only gift Aphrodite has ever given her.  
“Thinking about mom again?” Drew prompts gently, tucking her towel beneath her arm. Lacy’s expression is stormy.  
“Yeah.” Her pale pink lips turn upwards in a scowl. “Everybody thinks she’s such a saint, huh? Pretty Aphrodite with her heart of gold.” Lacy points at her eyes. “Pure gold, _please_. If she’s so _perfect,_ then why did she just let Silena die? Why did she let Silena do… do all those things?”  
Drew clenches her jaw and shakes her head.  
“I don’t know, Lace.”

Lacy’s fingers flick at the dangling globes of crystal before pulling them from her ears. She places them in her little jewellery box.  
“I hate her,” Lacy growls. Drew’s heart plummets to her stomach.

 _“I hate her.”_  
_Adrien nods vigorously, eyes a fiery shade of violet. Drew’s hands clench around a framed photo, a snapshot of simpler times. She slams the photograph down into Adrien’s storage trunk and lets him close the lid._  
 _“She reckons she doesn’t like breaking hearts,” Drew hisses. Her arms are shaking. “But look at what she did. Look at what she did, Adrien!”_  
 _“Drew?” Drew whips around to see a ten-year-old girl with curly blonde pigtails and big golden eyes. She’s clutching a ragdoll with a pink dress and brown plaits and her cheeks are stained with tears. “What’s happening?”_  
 _Drew pushes back her shoulders._

 _“Go to bed, Lacy!” Drew snaps. Little Lacy jumps back, and more tears start to leak from her eyes. “Adrien and I are busy!”  
“But Mitchell is crying really hard and he can’t breathe and—”  
“God, Lacy, shut _ up _!” Drew screams. Now she’s crying, too, while Lacy sobs into her doll. “Mitchell’s having a panic attack, get Will or Bella!”_  
_“Why would he be having a panic attack?” Adrien whispers. Drew pushes him away from her, grabs Lacy’s arm, and drags her back inside._  
 _“Go to bed!” She yells at Lacy and turns to Mitchell. Valentina is at his side. “Val, get back into your own bed. Mitchell, you’re coming with me, we’re going to the infirmary.”_

_As Drew half-carries Mitchell to where Will is sitting silently on a cot, her heart throbs. She had sworn to herself so long ago to never be like her father, and to be just like Silena.  
But now, the line between the two, once so bold and thick, had become blurred and as thin as hair. And Drew didn’t know who she wanted to be._

“You don’t hate her.”  
Drew wipes her eyes, only just now realising she’s crying. Lacy looks concerned.  
“What do you mean?”  
“I mean you don’t hate mom.” Drew takes a deep breath. “I know she’s only ever visited you once. I’ve only seen her once, too, and it was because she wanted to tell me that my father was being sent to court.”  
Lacy knows about Drew’s dad. She doesn’t need to ask.  
“But mom protects you, okay? She’s blessed you with the ability to _see_ emotions and _see_ what’s going on in peoples’ hearts. She’s watching over you and she’s making sure you stay safe.”

“What’s wrong?” Lacy can see how Drew feels. Drew knows this. She’s not afraid.  
“You don’t hate mom, Lacy.” Drew avoids Lacy’s question. “You just can’t see the big picture.”  
“Is this about Silena?”  
“You don’t—you don’t hate mom…”  
Drew’ buries her face in her hands and sobs. She waves to Lacy shakily and wanders into the bathroom.  
The freezing water usually helps Drew clear her head and calm, down, but she has a migraine and she can’t stop crying. She sits with the water running down her back like a stream, sobbing until her throat is raw.

Her migraine gets worse and worse the more she cries, but the worse it gets the more tears come. She can’t stop. There’s a pile of emotions that weighs on her—dysphoria she’d been battling with for the past month, memories of Silena, the black swan costume, the singing—

The singing.

Drew chokes on her sobs when she hears the soft lyrics, the tear-jerking words.  
It’s back. Drew swallows her lump in her throat and takes her head from her hands, crying ‘shit’ under her breath when she realises she didn’t even undress before she got in the water.  
With slow hands, Drew peels back the shower curtain, and gasps.  
A young girl of about nineteen is sitting against the door, eyes closed. Her form shimmers and flickers like a wisp of light, illuminating her lilac headdress.

“Silena,” Drew whispers.

The girl stops singing and opens her eyes. They glow the colour blue.  
“Hello, Drew.” Silena Beauregard smiles. “You’ve grown up a lot since I died.”  
Drew can’t speak. Her mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. Silena giggles.  
“Speechless? I understand. Ghosts are weird, huh?” Silena looks up at the ceiling. “You changed the light in here. I like the pink glow.”  
Drew snaps her mouth shut and stands up, grabbing the shower curtain to steady herself.  
“What the _fuck_ are you doing here?” She hisses. “You’re dead and I’m trying to move over from that, you just—you just ruined that!”

“Calm down, love,” Silena says quietly, face falling. Drew hates herself. She’d forgotten that she’d adopted her habit of calling people ‘love’ from Silena.  
“You’re dead.” Drew jabs a finger at her sister. “Go back to Elysium.”  
“I’m here to apologise.”  
Drew sucks in a breath. She blinks heavily and stomps from the shower to tower over Silena. She’d always been taller than her, but this is… wow. She’d gotten a lot taller in comparison since Silena had died.

“You are?” Drew whispers. Silena nods and smiles sheepishly.  
“There’s a lot of shit I need to apologise for, so I think it’s best if I don’t list it all, and just… Drew, I’m so sorry. I—”  
“Save it, Silena.” Drew looks down. “I’m trying to move on. Just apologise once and—and leave.”  
Drew thinks Silena should be mad, but when she looks up, she looks… proud.”  
“You really have grown up, Drew,” Silena says. There’s a strange ringing to her voice, and a glimmer of pride in her smile. “If I had have appeared in front of you three years ago, you probably would have tried to beat the shit out of me for betraying you guys. But here are… you’re very mature.”

“I’m mature because you left me to take care of an _entire cabin of people_ when I was _thirteen_.” Drew rubs her arms self-consciously. “I _had_ to grow up.”  
“You grew up because you knew there was no point being arrogant anymore.”  
Drew does not appreciate how many people are spitting the truth in her face as of late. She glares a hole through Silena.  
“Maybe.”  
For a while, Drew shivers and tries not to cry, while Silena’s brain works through a hundred puzzles.

“You know, Drew—” Silena stands up and brushes off her legs. She’s still a foot shorter than Drew. “I’ve always thought the white swan from Swan lake was a bit pretentious. Odette thought she was perfect, huh?”  
“I thought she was a little bit naïve and bossy,” Drew whispers, making direct eye contact with Silena, who scoffs.  
“Of course. But the black swan… well, she did a bad thing for love, didn’t she? So she’s always seen as the villain.”  
Drew stays quiet this time. Silena’s ghostly form is beginning to fade.

“Maybe you can change the story, huh?”  
Drew makes a desperate grab and cries out as Silena turns to walk away.  
“Wait! Don’t leave, I—I’ll never see you again!”  
“You don’t need to see me to know I’m proud of you, Drew.” Silena grins one last time. “I love you, okay? Remember that.”  
She leaves Drew alone in the bathroom, frigid and alone.


	6. Ghosts Can Sing

Drew takes an hour to calm herself down and process what she’s just experienced, sitting in the strawberry fields to feel the fall breeze on her legs and in her hair. She absentmindedly braids flower crowns out of the strawberry-plant leaves and daises, and cherishes the smell of fruit in the air. Somewhere, she can hear Miranda, Rhys, Bella and Malcolm singing _Bad Romance_ at the top of their lungs.  
She supposes, on any ordinary day, she might feel a pang of jealousy at this. She misses the days where she, Will, Lou Ellen and Cecil used to do the same thing. Things have changed since the second Giant War—Nico is their friend now, which doesn’t make too much for a difference, but it _does_ mean Will is always distracted. Lou Ellen is busy as head counsellor now, since her elder brother died in the war, and Cecil has been helping Connor Stoll in Travis’s place.

And yet, Drew can’t find it in herself to be upset. The more the considers the situation she and her friends are in, the more she realises that it just makes the times where the six of them sit around the campfire and laugh and tell stupid stories more precious. More valuable.  
Besides, there’s an epiphany brewing in the back of her mind. Seeing Silena again, and watching her leave so fast, has triggered it. It has occurred to Drew that life is full of events, and she can’t mourn one, or she’ll miss the next—sure, her brother’s friends are having the time of their lives right now, but where is he? Busy setting up for a party.

He’s missing out. But Drew knows he will be there next time, and he won’t even know that he’s missed out on this, because what’s the point in telling him? They do this all the time.  
So there’s no point in worrying or living in the past. Time is artificial, anyway.  
It’s around this point when Drew realised that people are probably wondering where she is, and why she’s not participating in her favourite pastime—designing and creating a space for a party. Drew leaps to her feet and spins around to face the camp—and runs smack into Bella Swarchovski.

“Woah!” Bella stumbles backwards, and only just manages to steady herself. Her beanie slides off her hair and falls into a strawberry bush. “Jesus!”  
“Sorry!” Drew gasps, and grabs for the beanie. She shoves it at Bella and feels the blood rush to her cheeks. She always does this—she thinks she can handle being around somebody she thinks is a little cute, somebody who makes her heart beat a little bit faster, but when she’s next to them, she loses her cool completely. “Gods, Bella, I’m sorry—”  
“Dude, it’s fine!” Bella’s voice is deep and melodic. She accepts her hat and tugs it back over the waves of dark hair that spill over her right shoulder. The side of her head that’s shaved sticks out—Drew likes it.

“What are you doing out here, anyway?” Bella asks, zipping up her flannel and folding her arms. Her grin makes dimples in her tawny skin. “Will always says that decorating for Halloween is your favourite part of the holiday.”  
“Well he’s wrong,” Drew mumbles. “It’s making my costume. But, um… yeah. I love it.”  
“So what’s the go with missing out?”  
Drew doesn’t know if she wants to tell Bella what’s wrong. Sure, she’s known her for years—as Adrien’s best friend and Will’s sister, it’s hard to escape her. But there aren’t many people she trusts to spill her emotions to.

“Just… a couple of old memories, you know?” Drew rubs her arms. Her heart is thumping fast, like a rabbit’s leg. “Ghosts.”  
Bella giggles. She tugs on her sleeves and sighs.  
“Well, just… don’t spend too much time thinking. Hurts your brain.”  
“Hurts _your_ brain, maybe.”  
“Drew Tanaka, I am _wounded_!”  
Drew can’t stop the laughter that bubbles up her throat. She shakes her head and meets Bella’s chocolate-brown eyes.  
“You’re just like your brother. Dramatic as ever. Also, aren’t you supposed to be helping him?”  
Bella shrugs.

“It’s an Apollo thing. Not that your cabin can really talk. And who cares, anyway? I’m not one for setting up.”  
Drew nods. She fixes her blouse and gestures in a weird fashion to the dining pavilion, where the tables have been pushed away to make space for a celebration.  
“Um... I have to… uh…”  
“Yeah. Go set up.”  
Drew wishes she didn’t blush so easily. Or that her neck didn’t go up in a rash when she was nervous. Bella’s smile is… wow. She doesn’t even have the words to describe her.  
“Yeah.”  
“Hey, look—I know you’re going to be busy tonight with Lou Ellen, and Cecil, and Will and Nico, but if you get a chance, come say hi.”  
Drew nods quickly to Bella, who waves, before she runs (trips once or twice) to the pavilion.

* * *

At five-thirty, the group breaks away to get into their costumes. Will has to be dragged to his cabin by Nico because he’s too busy bragging to Drew about how good his costume is, and Drew watches him go with a smile.  
Slipping into the black tulle tutu feels exhilarating; it feels like the first time Piper let Drew drink a whole rum and coke that she’d gotten from Jason but didn’t want to have herself. It feels dangerous, but good—like she’s breaking out of a cage. She’s setting her own path.  
The black ballet slippers are probably a bit of a mistake, but Drew doesn’t mind. They’re real pointe shoes she’s been dancing in for a year now, and they’re probably going to twist her feet and ruin her toes just by walking in them, but it’s worth it.

The black, glittering tiara is made of onyx and feathers that Drew sourced from Lou Ellen and Rhys and didn’t even ask where they were originally from. She isn’t sure she wanted to know. Knowing Rhys, they were probably hand-plucked from a fucking _griffon_. The boy is impulsive. The feathers that climb up the bodice and droop from her wrists shimmer all different shades of black under different lights, and they merge with the twisting briars Drew’s wrapped around her arms. They’re fake, obviously, but they look as real as it gets.

When Drew steps out of the Aphrodite bathroom, all chattering stops. Even Adrien shuts up and pulls his eyes away from his own reflection.  
“What are you all looking at?” Drew puts on hand on her hip and tosses her black curls over her shoulder. “As if you weren’t expecting something extravagant.”  
“Nice colour.” Lacy steps into the middle of the cabin, and Drew can’t even believe her eyes. The girl is wearing an exact replica of Gretchen Wieners’ Halloween costume—like, an _exact_ replica. There isn’t a detail she’s missed.  
“Mean Girls?” Drew stresses. “Really?”

“I tried to hint towards it. I would _never_ wear that much pink if I wasn’t up to something.”  
Drew knows this is true. Lacy’s favourite outfit is black fishnets, ripped black jeans and a black, cropped shirt. She’s a goth phase come to life.  
She turns to Adrien, who’s shirtless (no surprise there), but wearing a blood-red cloak and hunting pants. A line of fake blood runs down his torso.  
“You look stupid,” Drew compliments. Adrien grins. He raises his bow.  
“Just going as myself.”  
“But shot with an arrow?”  
“Yup.”  
Drew scoffs.

The cabin go as a group to the dining pavilion, where, if Drew squints, she can see gold-painted pumpkins and glittering, ghost-shaped fairy lights. She can hear _The Monster Mash_ ringing through the night, which is, no doubt, Will’s choice of song—he chooses it every year and makes sure it plays at least thrice. Fake smoke is swirling over the ground. Drew’s chest swells with pride—she loves Halloween night. Her siblings and herself are _incredible_ at this.  
The music is so loud, she can feel it in her stomach when they finally arrive at the pavilion. She scans the room quickly and spots her friends easily—Will isn’t good at hiding when he has a mop of blond hair on his head.

“Evening.” Drew slides into the group with a smirk. Lou Ellen gasps as Cecil hands her a cup of ruby-coloured punch. An ice cube in the shape of a skull floats to the top.  
“A black swan!” Lou Ellen runs her hands over the feathers on Drew’s arms. “Drew, you went all out this year.”  
“I love it.” Cecil punches her in the arm. “It’s awesome.”  
Drew nods appreciatively. Lou Ellen is wearing a classic witch’s cape and dress, topped with a pointed hat and a crystalline bottle of… _something_ , in her hand. Cecil looks like he’s just gone and bathed in tomato soup, which is a shock to nobody.

But it’s Will who takes Drew’s breath away. His black robes reach the ground and pool around his feet like a king’s outfit, so that his knee-high, lace-up black boots can only be seen when he walks. His face is half-covered by a glittering silver mask that extends in a sharp bird’s-beak, and it… smells like roses?  
“A plague doctor!” Drew taps the beak. “I honestly never would have guessed you’d go all out on this, Solace.”  
“We had a mask lying around the infirmary,” Will flips the mask up. His face is already sweaty, but his smile is beaming so brightly Drew barely notices. “I don’t know why. But look at Nico!”

Drew’s eyes train down to Nico, who looks sheepish. He’s dressed simply—a pirate.  
“I’ve been told you’re a fan of pirates,” Drew relays. Nico raises his hands in a placid gesture.  
“What can I say? I’m a kid from the thirties—the dream was to live your life away from war and on the ocean. Besides, pirates are fucking cool.”  
“Language!” Cecil gasps. Nico rolls his eyes, but Drew can see his lips tugging upwards in a stubborn beam.

The song changes to _House of Memories_ , and Drew’s heart fills with content as Will and Lou Ellen drag her out to the middle of the pavilion, Cecil and Nico trailing behind with whoops of joy. She jumps along to the bass and laughs when Will does a really _awful_ impression of a plague doctor, telling Nico he’s going to die from boils. Her shoes start to hurt her toes a half-hour in, but Drew barely notices. She’s too busy drinking cherry punch that tastes like pure sugar and screaming along to songs she’ll never tire of, too busy spinning Lou Ellen around and making bets with Nico about who’s going to fall asleep standing up first—Chiron or Jason Grace.

Halfway through the night, Will grabs Drew’s arm and leans into her ear, still laughing but trying to calm himself down. His breath smiles like cherry medicine, tangerines and spearmint.  
“Black swan, huh?” He says, and Drew knows he thinks he’s being quiet, but he’s almost yelling in her ear. She wonders if the flask Lou Ellen has tucked under her witch’s cloak has been tipped once or twice into his drink. “You took my advice.”  
His words are definitely slurred. Drew takes his drink from him and downs it.  
“Not quite,” she retaliates, patting Will’s cheek. “I wore the costume, but I’m still thinking about her. Just… in a good way, this time.”

Will nods, like Drew has just shared the secret of life with him. He takes his cup back and frowns at the lack of liquid.  
“I have to fill this up now!” He whines. Drew giggles.  
“Maybe you shouldn’t have any more of Lou Ellen’s potion.”  
“No more, I promise.”  
Will turns away and starts to head towards the drinks table, where Nico is chatting lightly with Butch.  
“Wait!” Drew calls out, lunging for Will’s hand. “Wait, I have to tell you something.”  
“What?”  
“Ghosts can sing.” Will looks confused. “And they really, really want you to hear them.”  
A beat of silence, spare for the thundering music in the background. Then Will shakes his head.  
“Happy Halloween, Drew Tanaka.”

Drew’s chest is full of warmth and her head is full of dopamine. She smiles so wide, her cheeks sting.  
“Happy Halloween, Will Solace.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's the end! thank you to everybody for reading this fic, and for being patient even though Halloween ended a while ago now. check in for a possible sequel in December! Happy late Halloween!


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